


Not a Creature Was Stirring... Save For Rebekah

by eminently_practical



Category: The Originals (TV), Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eminently_practical/pseuds/eminently_practical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For their first Christmas alone in years, Rebekah attempts a surprise for Elijah to wake up to on Christmas morning. Considering her abilities in the kitchen however, she shouldn’t have expected much less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Creature Was Stirring... Save For Rebekah

It had always amused Rebekah that there was at least one day a year she could be counted on to awake before Elijah. She wasn’t sure if there was one reason specifically or it was just the entire day in general, but it didn’t matter how hard she tried every year she was awake with the sun – not that she minded  _one_  day a year. This year especially was different however. Even by her Christmas Day standards, 3am was utterly ridiculous.

Unlike the rest of the morning which had been scheduled extensively, such an early start was nowhere even close to her plan. Her morning required her awake slightly earlier than usual, yes, but when the blonde found herself awake at 3 am she was almost fearful to return back to sleep in case she overslept and ruined everything.  It had been a cool night and had seemed a shame to even retire to bed in the first place so instead Rebekah had thrown open the bay windows at the foot of the bed, cool nights air breezing freely into their bedroom while the moon covered them in a soft light. It was by that very light she had laid for close to an hour, fascinated by the small shadows it left over Elijah’s body, the small content smile sleep left on his lips.

It was the same any rare occasion Rebekah awoke first; in the beginning it seemed as if she could lay there forever and just watch him sleep, becoming familiar with the small rise and fall of his chest and the slight breeze that ruffled his hair. Like most things in her life however, it didn’t take her long to become restless, torn between half wishing he would simply wake up and falling back asleep herself.  She compromised by leaving the bed for a bubble bath, light by candles. The water was scolding, far hotter than she ever dared run it whenever she shared the tub, leaving the entire room quickly filled with a mixture of steam and perfume. It had started out as a relaxing way to start Christmas morning until the reality that her plans involved her doing the impossible truly dawned on her.

Her big plans involved her  _cooking_.

She supposed it was meant to be relatively easy, after all just how many children has she seen on TV cooking far more extravagant dishes than the one she planned on serving? If a child could do it there was no reason whatsoever that she couldn’t produce  _something_. Still, Rebekah spent most of the time in the bath on her phone, looking up countless cooking videos (and getting horribly distracted by attractive chefs leaving the entire video pointless and her searching for another).

The sun had finally risen when Rebekah pulled the plug on the bath, wrapping herself in a robe before rubbing a towel through her hair while she made her way to the kitchen. If there was one thing she could do without a doubt, it was decorating. Everything else in the day could go completely wrong, but there was no doubt the place would look utterly amazing if it did. By that reasoning, decorating the table ready for breakfast made for a perfect starting place. For the life of her she had no idea where Elijah had put her presents (not that she had looked or anything…) but the ones on his placemat were piled high – impressive considering most of them were rather small to begin with.

Getting flowers in such a place was a difficult fete and yet one Rebekah had managed, having them delivered to the house alongside a basket full of jams and various spreads. Originally she had been planning on only getting a few since they’d only be wasted anyway, but Rebekah picking  _anything_  she wanted to eat days beforehand never ended well. Instead she had gotten everything from whipped cream, to jam, to chocolate spreads, to fruit and everything in between. Besides, it was probably the easiest way to ensure Elijah didn’t complain because his sister had only thought to buy chocolate for Christmas morning.

Personally, Rebekah couldn’t see why you needed anything else when chocolate was available, but she was picking her battles. Especially today.

So, she had indulged him. The table alone was proof of that fact. Being satisfied with its appearance took twice as long as usual, the blonde being almost certain she was finished only to find one small aspect she wasn’t happy with each time. Rebekah would never admit the possibility that she was stalling the actual cooking part. It had seemed like such a good idea in theory, she’d spent the past few weeks looking up recipes for pancakes whenever Elijah wasn’t around plus the videos that morning, there was little reason why she couldn’t produce  _something_.

Reading and rereading the recipe, Rebekah all but danced around the kitchen as she gathered the ingredients, placing them all out neatly on the bench before her. Flour, then butter, milk, eggs and a touch of sugar. How hard exactly could it be? Not exactly used to the layout of the kitchen, it took her an age to find the mixing bowl, her face scrunched up in concentration when she finally did. She had no idea just how long exactly Elijah would remain asleep and no way to figure it out so if she were to keep the whole thing a secret until she was finished, Rebekah only had one opportunity to get it right.

What all the recipes and videos failed to tell her was just how messy flour was. Rather than pouring it slowly into the cup measures she all but upended the bag, filling up the measuring cup but also covering the entire bench and floor beneath her. Distractedly she attempted to brush it into a pile away from the bowl, achieving very little but covering her hands with the white powder, eventually to end up throughout her hair and over her clothes. In her state of determination to see it through however, she barely noticed. The eggs proved almost as difficult, especially considering how easy the chefs had made cracking them so no shell fell into the egg white look. Using a nail she attempted to pick out as much as she could, becoming flustered at just how challenging it proved. The milk was arguably the easiest part of the entire thing and yet as she began to mix the batter it just didn’t look  _right_.

“Would you like a hand, Bekah?” Just how long Elijah had been lingering in the doorway watching her, Rebekah had no idea. In all her concentration she hadn’t even heard his approach.

If she tried, she still couldn’t have looked more like a petulant child than she did in that moment, throwing him a quick glance over her shoulder. “ _No_. Go back to bed.”

The chuckle she received in answer did very little to help her stubbornness. “So I can awake later to the house burning down?” In a heartbeat he was behind her, hands to her waist as he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Merry Christmas to you too. Now as much as I enjoy watching you attempt to cook, perhaps you should let me help.” Before Rebekah could protest the hands at her waist ushered her sideways, forcing her to step away from the bowl.

A small grumble which sounded vaguely like ‘ _Merry Christmas, ‘Lijah’_  was the only response she offered up, arms folding over her chest as she watched him. She still had no idea how, when she had managed for so not needing to know how to cook, Elijah of all people was a natural. She supposed she should just add it onto the long list of things that seemed to come naturally to her brother and call it a day.  The pout didn’t leave her lips as she continued to watch him scrape her mess of an attempt into the trash and start afresh, offering her entirely unappreciated tips such as “You have to sift the flour into the bowl” and “Try cracking the eggs into a glass first”. It was only when he began to mix the batter that she broke her silence, moving to stand behind him to peer over his shoulder. “I was going to do this for you, not the other way around.”

“You are, I’m merely offering assistance.” His answer came smoothly, without pause – the answer of someone who knew exactly how to keep his little sister happy. It was only when he was completely satisfied with the mixture that he pushed the bowl to the side, actually offering it to the blonde. “See, now you can cook them.”

Surely that had to be the easy part. A small grin gracing her lips, Rebekah regained her earlier flame. Not entirely confident in what she was doing, she was happy enough to be doing something again,  _anything_. After all, cooking them was truly the most important part of the whole thing. As long as she cooked them she could still claim them to be her own. With the utmost concentration she spooned the mixture into a frying pan, watching the whole thing expectantly.  

A minute passed and absolutely nothing was happening.

“May I offer some advice?” She could  _hear_  the amusement in his voice and it was only too easy to imagine the little smile that would accompany it.

“No you can’t.” Rebekah replied. As if it would actually do anything, she poked the small circle with the spoon, disheartened to see it exactly as she had poured it.

“Perhaps turning the stovetop on?”

That made her stop. She attempted to retort with a witty remark but they train of thought escaped her as she bent down, trying to figure out which knob corresponded with which burner. She felt remarkably proud to say that that was one thing she could actually do by herself, setting the burner at full heat in order for the pancakes to cook quicker. It didn’t take her long to reach the complete opposite problem. Sure enough the kitchen began to fill with smoke and Rebekah turned around half hoping Elijah would offer some kind of solution. Instead, he seemed to be enjoying himself at her determination, adhering to her wishes about wanting to do it alone.

“Fine. Didn’t want your help anyway…” Whether Rebekah was talking to Elijah or herself, she wasn’t entirely sure. Flicking the switch on the exhaust fan above the stove (which she only knew about from the earlier cooking videos), she admitted defeat and tossed the first attempts to the trash. In an attempt to find a middle ground she turned down the burner and tried again, pleased to see that the new try looked far more even. She tried flipping the pancake over with an eggflip but when it kept folding in the middle every time she tried Rebekah resorted to using her fingers.

Given the fact that she had been initially aiming for the whole idea of a nice breakfast rather than the food itself she called it quits when she had a pile a dozen high, all of various shapes, sizes and levels of cooked. Picking up the plate she turned to Elijah, a proud smile on her lips which only grew at the genuine one he returned her. While she busied herself with some last minute additions involving a tub of ice cream for the table and a tumbler of eggnog, Elijah moved to his chair somehow managing to appear as if he were seeing the entire scene for the first time. 

"Do I want to know how you managed all this, Bekah?" Elijah asked when Rebekah joined him, pouring the pair of them a glass of eggnog. He accepted his enthusiastically, bringing the glass to his lips as he watched her. 

"I manage a lot of this, and it’s usually best when you don’t." Her earlier mood was gone completely, his joy contagious — not that she really needed too much motivation, at the end of the day she enjoyed the holiday every bit as much as he did.

"In which case it all looks perfect."  _Even if I had already planned a breakfast of my own._  He wasn’t about to tell her that though, especially not when she looked so pleased with herself on the other side of the table. “Merry Christmas, Rebekah.” 

"Merry Christmas, Elijah." A slight pause. "Now, can I have my presents yet?" 


End file.
